


Spot Flu

by TheSoundOfThunderstorms



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Sweet, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 17:52:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoundOfThunderstorms/pseuds/TheSoundOfThunderstorms
Summary: She was sweet sometimes.





	Spot Flu

**Author's Note:**

> Just something short and sweet. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

8:00 a.m. Sombra stepped off the dropship at exactly 8:00 a.m., yawning as she got closer to the roof exit. Despite her tired state from pulling an all-nighter, Sombra grinned as she made her way through the base. As an incentive to finish her assignment on time, something Sombra wasn’t prone to do lately, Widowmaker promised her one request. Anything she wanted, within reason.

She stopped in front of a door and touched the side panel to open it. Sombra stepped inside the well-lit room, spotting Widowmaker on the bed eyes focused on the tablet in her hands. Two trays sat before her. Waffles. That was the request. Waffles in bed so Sombra could pass out immediately afterward.

Starting with her gloves, Sombra peeled off her clothes, making a trail as she made her way to the bathroom. She’d pick them up later. One step inside the bathroom, Sombra rocked back on the balls of her feet to get a glimpse of Widowmaker. “I’ll be five minutes.” Sombra saw Widowmaker’s eyes flick up from the tablet, focusing back on the screen a split second later. She smiled when golden eyes fixated on her again, taking a considerably longer glance before returning to their previous task.

During her short shower, Sombra had to turn the heat down a bit, her usual preferred temperature somehow too hot. In the middle of running a towel through her hair, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over Sombra as she stood in front of the foggy mirror. She closed her eyes for a second.

A jolt of cold had Sombra snapping her eyes open. She saw Widowmaker reflected in the clear mirror. Sombra blinked in confusion, trying to find out how long she had been standing there. As she pondered the question, Widowmaker picked up where she left off and finished toweling off the excess water in Sombra’s hair.

“You were gone for fifteen minutes. I thought you might have fallen asleep.” Widowmaker grabbed Sombra’s hand and led her out of the bathroom. As they passed the dresser, she handed Sombra a neatly folded pile of clothes. She let go of Sombra’s hand when they reached the bed. A smirk formed on her face as she sat on the edge of the mattress. “It looks like I was right.”

“Heh,” Sombra chuckled to herself as she slid her clothes on, “guess I’m more tired than I thought.” She sat on the bed as well, pulling one of the trays close.

“You don’t have to eat if you’re too tired.”

“I am tired,” Sombra tore off a piece of her cold waffle and dunked it into her little cup of syrup, devouring it in a second, “but I’m starving too.”

Widowmaker nodded slowly, keeping her eyes glued to Sombra’s face. They passed over the same area as a frown formed. She pulled the other tray to her and used the same technique as Sombra to eat her waffle as well. “Was your shower too hot?”

“No. I mean…” She did have to turn the heat down earlier. “It was the usual temp. I lowered the heat this time though. Why?”

“Your cheeks are red.”

Sombra touched her face as if that would let her see her cheeks. “They are?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe the hot water needs to be fixed.”

Widowmaker put down her half-eaten piece of waffle, continuing to stare as she contemplated Sombra’s answer. “Maybe.”

As soon Sombra finished her meal, she fell back on the bed, curling her arms around the closest pillow. She heard Widowmaker clear out their trays, plates clanking against each other the only sound in the room as Widowmaker herself stayed silent in her task.

The doors opened and closed, signaling Widowmaker’s departure. Sombra sighed into her pillow. She didn’t budge, her body suddenly having an extra weight to it. Too much effort to climb under the covers. Just as she was about to succumb to sleep, the doors opened again, bringing with it a small burst of energy to her tired body.

“Feel like a morning nap?” Sombra mumbled out.

The bed shook from behind Sombra as Widowmaker pulled down on the covers. “I already slept.”

“Mmm, more sleep never killed anyone.” Cool arms slid under Sombra’s coiled form, picking her up for the briefest of moments before placing her back on the bed. Sombra wrapped her arms around Widowmaker’s neck and opened her sleep-filled eyes. “Keep me company then? Until I fall asleep.”

Widowmaker craned her neck to look at the time displayed on the bedside table. She focused back on Sombra, giving her a thoughtful expression. A small smile spread across her lips as she pulled away and covered Sombra with the blanket.

Since Widowmaker had a particular morning routine, Sombra didn’t expect her to stay. That wasn’t to say she didn’t feel disappointed as the lights flickered off. What she didn’t expect was the dip in the bed from behind and the accompanying cold that followed as Widowmaker’s skin brushed against Sombra’s beneath the covers.

Sombra turned around, happy with the turn of events. “Skipping the shooting range?”

The back of Widowmaker’s hand found Sombra’s forehead, staying put for a few seconds before Widowmaker moved her hand again to move a stray strand of hair away from Sombra’s face. “It can wait.”

Cool hands pulled Sombra close. Her fatigue coupled with the comfortable weight of Widowmaker’s arms wrapped around her had Sombra falling asleep before she knew it.

-

When Sombra woke up again, it was 5 a.m. the next morning. Her head throbbed in pain and her throat begged for water. Not to mention the fact that her bladder felt ready to explode. Dealing with the most pressing issue, Sombra stumbled out of the empty bed and shuffled in the dark to the bathroom.

Relieved that she wasn’t going to piss herself anytime soon, Sombra finished everything she needed to do in the bathroom at a much slower pace, the need for urgency gone. A strange itch ran along her arm. She casually scratched it as she brushed her teeth.

Exiting the bathroom, Sombra casually itched at both of her arms, yawning on the way back to bed. She still felt tired. And for some reason, warmer than usual. As Sombra climbed into bed, Widowmaker came walking through the door, a glass of water in hand.

Widowmaker turned the lights on, dimming them soon after Sombra winced in pain at their brightness. She crossed the room and handed Sombra the glass of water. The back of Widowmaker’s hand pressed against Sombra’s forehead as Sombra gulped the water down in a few short bursts.

“Sombra,” Widowmaker dropped her hand and put some distance between them, “where you…” Her question trailed off as Widowmaker looked like she was trying to find the right words.

“Was I what?” A new itch found its way to Sombra’s leg. She mindlessly scratched at it as she waited for Widowmaker to finish her question.

“Did you ever get the varicella vaccine?”

Sombra furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “What are you trying to say?” Of course she was vaccinated. Widowmaker reached for Sombra’s free arm, drawing Sombra’s attention to the rash forming along her skin. That explained some things.

A frown formed on Sombra’s lips as she put two and two together. Sombra pulled her arm back and somehow frowned even more at Widowmaker’s implications. “I do not have chickenpox.”

Widowmaker crossed her arms, her body language broadcasting her doubt.

“It’s just the flu or something.” Sombra took the time to examine the rash, astounded that she didn’t notice any of it while she was in the bathroom earlier. That assignment took more out of her than she thought. “With spots.”

“Sombra.”

The tone in Widowmaker’s voice made it perfectly clear that Sombra basically described chickenpox in a nutshell. Still didn’t mean she had it. “It’s not chickenpox!” Her hands moved on autopilot, scratching away at her collarbone and along her neck.

Widowmaker stepped closer and gently took hold of Sombra’s hands. “With… The spot flu, you can’t scratch.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll scar.”

Sombra grumbled as she tried to pull her hands back. The spots itched too much not to scratch. “But it’s so itchy.”

Widowmaker dropped Sombra’s hands, sighing when Sombra went right back to scratching. She went to the dresser and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt, handing it to Sombra when she got back to the bed. “Put this on.”

Grabbing the shirt, Sombra yanked off her tank top and tossed it behind her on the bed. She took a cursory glance down, seeing the spots dotting along her chest as well. Sombra rushed to put the shirt on, happy to cover up the growing pile of evidence against her. It didn’t matter what it looked like. One thing was certain. She did not have chickenpox.

“If you need to itch, pat at it through the shirt. Just don’t overdo it.”

“Don’t they have some anti-itch cream in the medbay?” Sombra attempted the patting technique, severely disappointed with the results. She refrained from scratching when Widowmaker gave her a pointed look.

“We can see.” Widowmaker extended a hand to Sombra and pulled her up from the bed as soon as Sombra grabbed hold of it.

As they walked to the medbay hand in hand, Sombra was 100% sure that Widowmaker only did that to cut the scratching in half. A flawless plan given the fact that Sombra rather enjoyed the contact.

One of the medics looked up from their work as Sombra and Widowmaker made their entrance into the medbay. “Can I help you?”

“Sombra has chickenpox.”

Sombra clenched her fists and seethed out, “I do not.” through her teeth. She snapped her attention to the medic immediately afterward. “It’s not chickenpox, I swear. I just have an itch. You guys got any itch cream?”

The medic eyed her but made no comment. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a box and a bottle of pills. He returned to Sombra with the items and handed them to her.

“Calamine lotion for the itch and acetaminophen for the pain.”

Sombra nodded appreciatively, happy that the medic was able to give her something for her weird rash. “Thanks.”

As they left the medbay, Widowmaker gently took the lotion and examined the bottle. “Do you need any help putting this on?”

Sombra opened the door to Widowmaker’s room and walked in first. “My back is sort of itchy.” She sat on the bed and opened the bottle of pills, dry swallowing a couple for the pain throbbing in her head. Sombra felt Widowmaker take a seat behind her, straightening up when cold fingers pressed against the small of her back.

“Take this off.” Widowmaker tugged on Sombra’s shirt to emphasize her point.

Sombra smiled at the request. “Don’t need to tell me twice.” She shrieked when the lotion touched her skin.

“What’s wrong?” Widowmaker continued to apply the lotion.

“That shit’s cold.”

“I’m cold and you have no problem when I touch you.”

“Yeah, but you’re a sexy cold.”

“Should I stop?”

The relief from the lotion more than made up for the icy torture. “No.”

Widowmaker got closer to her and reached for one of Sombra’s hands, turning it palm side up. She squeezed some lotion onto Sombra’s hand. “You can warm it up and then I’ll put it on.”

Sombra couldn’t stop herself from grinning at the gesture. She opened and closed her mouth, having trouble voicing the sudden onslaught of intense happiness flooding her system. After a few silent seconds, Sombra rubbed the lotion between her hands and settled on keeping her response simple. “You’re real sweet sometimes. You know that?”

The warm, pink lotion transferred to Widowmaker’s fingers as she scooped it out of Sombra’s hands. She smoothed it over Sombra’s back with no incident. Widowmaker leaned her chin on Sombra’s shoulder and poured more of the lotion into Sombra’s hands. She spoke in a soft voice as if it the meaning behind her words would float away if she said them too loudly. “I’m not sweet but,” Widowmaker wrapped her arms around Sombra’s waist, possibly covering her shirt in the lotion but she didn’t seem to care, “you make it easier to try to be.”

Turning around in Widowmaker’s arms, Sombra returned the embrace, smudging the back of Widowmaker’s shirt with the warmed calamine lotion. Her bottom lip trembled from the sudden desire to cry. She cracked a joke to keep the tears at bay. “You’re covered in lotion. I thought it was supposed to go on me.” It didn’t work.

Widowmaker swiped off some of the lotion from her shirt and spread it across Sombra’s cheeks, effectively wiping away the tears. “Better?”

“Yeah, better.”

 

 


End file.
